


Streak

by chilly_flame



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chilly_flame/pseuds/chilly_flame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy and Miranda do Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Streak

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt (non-ficathon-related, remarkably) courtesy of politic_x . Hopefully I’ve done it justice! Thanks, as ever, to my trusty beta, Xander.

Andy followed Nigel, Emily and, improbably, Miranda through the complicated maze that was a Las Vegas casino. Granted, it was one of the nicer casinos and hotels on the strip, but she found it hard to believe that snooty Miranda would actually deign to appear at a convention in this insane city. But she’d agreed to appear onstage to announce a partnership between Elias-Clarke and Apple, so here they were. Andy suspected she’d brought an entourage to keep her from having to socialize extensively with a bunch of nerds. That didn’t bother Andy—she’d never been to Vegas, and she was overwhelmed by the unending sounds of the slot machines around them. She’d almost dropped a quarter into one right when they walked into the airport, but Nigel had grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her away.

At the hotel, she and Emily were sharing a suite, so she’d already had to listen to her co-worker complain about the ugly masses of people in this “hellhole in the middle of the country.” Andy hoped that they wouldn’t all have to stay together tonight; she’d brought a precious two hundred dollars to play with, and she had no intention of hanging out with Emily instead of spending her hard-earned cash at the slots.

Once the group came to a halt, somewhere in the middle of the casino, Miranda turned around. “I’m on stage at 2:30 tomorrow. We’ll meet in the Central Hall of the convention center no later than noon, so please coordinate amongst yourselves. And don’t show up hungover, or if you are, I don’t want to know about it. Enjoy your evening. Come along, Andrea,” Miranda said, and stalked off.

Andy glanced at both Nigel and Emily, who stared at her as if she’d grown another head. She just shrugged and hurried after her boss, worried now that her evening would be even worse than listening to Emily bitch. If she was stuck with Miranda the whole night, she’d have to be on her best behavior. She sighed, and hoped that she’d be able to make an escape at some point. Miranda would probably want to get to bed by eleven, so she’d have time then.

Besides, she heard the booze was free in the casinos if you sat down and spent some money. She wanted to find out if this was true.

Miranda was still moving quickly, and Andy had to rush to keep up. “Um, Miranda?” Andy asked. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Of course,” Miranda replied, not even looking at her.

After chasing her for what seemed like a mile, Miranda slowed down. They’d entered a huge room packed with tables, while ornate chandeliers hung from high ceilings. It was noisy and bustling with energy, and Andy realized they’d found the Poker Room.

“Come along,” Miranda repeated, and she strolled through the mass of people, mostly men, toward a table only half full. “Stand over there, but don’t hover, for god’s sake.” She handed the dealer a few bills, and was given a collection of chips in return.

From then on, Andy tried to follow what was happening in the game, but she wasn’t exactly a star poker player herself. Other than college strip poker, which involved a great deal of drinking and no skill at all, she’d never played. She’d heard Texas Hold ‘Em was all the rage these days, but hadn’t picked up the rules. After a few minutes, she identified the general structure of the game, but she still didn’t quite know which hands were the best, or worst. Pairs and “trips” were good, cards in a row were better (sometimes), cards in a row of the same suit were best of all. Maybe. Maybe four of a kind was best, she couldn’t tell for sure. But the five cards shared by the group made it exciting, even though from what Andy could see, Miranda’s chips were dwindling rapidly.

After probably a half an hour, Miranda’s pile was even smaller. She glanced at Andy, who was shifting on her feet and trying not to look bored. Miranda rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, play a hand.” She placed a bill on the table for the dealer to change, which Andy realized was a hundred, and she received a stack of twenty red five-dollar chips in return.

“Um, thanks,” Andy said, unsure that this was a smart thing to do. But Miranda had made a statement, not asked a question, so she sat. She nervously looked up at the female dealer, who just smiled and nodded. With that, the hand began.

Andy put in the small blind of ten dollars, and was dealt her cards. She peeked at her competition: three men in suits, and Miranda, who was as composed as ever. Andy’s heart started to race, and she wondered if she’d have to give back the money if she lost. She glanced at her two cards and tried not to yelp when she realized she held two aces. She blinked, and hoped no one had noticed her little flinch.

There was a series of bets, which totaled twenty dollars, and though two of the men folded, Andy called, as did Miranda.

Then the dealer laid out three cards: two fives and a six of spades. That meant Andy had two pair, which was a good hand. She debated with herself over the next bet, because someone else could have a five to make three of a kind, or but since it was only twenty bucks more, she went for it. The next card was a two of hearts, which didn’t move Andy one way or another. Miranda raised with a forty dollar bet, which would put Andy almost out of chips if she called. When their eyes met, Andy was certain she was bluffing. With that, Andy put her remaining chips in the pot and said, “All in.”

Miranda’s eyes flared with fire, and her mouth twitched in what Andy hoped was a hidden smile. Miranda put in a final two chips to match the bet, as did their only other competition.

When the dealer laid down the river card, Andy almost cried out: the ace of hearts smiled up at her. She held as still as possible, looking at the two other players. The man stared at his cards intently, while Miranda waited for him to bet. When he threw in another twenty, Miranda followed.

Then they had to show their cards. Heart in her throat, Andy revealed her two aces, which beat both the man’s straight and Miranda’s three of a kind. The dealer stacked the chips and sent them in Andy’s direction—she’d just won more than two hundred fifty dollars on top of the hundred Miranda had given her. Speechless, she didn't look at Miranda, who said slowly, “Another round.”

The next hand went almost exactly as the previous one, except that Andy ended up with an ace-high straight and a win of three hundred bucks even.

Her pile of chips was significantly larger than Miranda’s, and Andy was starting to sweat through her blouse. She was grateful she’d worn black.

After the third round, Andy had over a thousand dollars in stacks lined up in front of her. When she finally looked up at Miranda, she couldn’t figure out her expression. Andy had a sudden thought: she’s going to have my legs broken by some pit boss in a back room. But Miranda only motioned to her and said, “We’re done. Change, please.”

The dealer handed Andy ten hundred-dollar bills and a single twenty. “Thanks, um,” she glanced at Miranda and then handed the dealer the twenty back, because apparently that’s what you were supposed to do whether you won or lost at a poker table. “Thanks a lot.” The dealer pocketed the tip with a subtle nod and went back to work.

Miranda took her by the elbow and dragged her across the room. “I’m sorry, Miranda, here,” Andy said, trying to hand her the cash.

“Good lord, stop that. Put it in your bag before someone tries to mug you.”

“Um, okay?” Andy said, doing as she was told. Miranda kept on walking, her hand burning Andy’s skin. Now Andy felt perspiration at her temples and the back of her neck; rarely was she so close to her lovely, untouchable boss. She swallowed. “Where are we going?”

Andy wanted to kick herself for asking the question, but Miranda simply replied, “Roulette.”

They made a brief stop to get more chips. Andy handed over her winnings, and Miranda put in another thousand. She asked for hundred-dollar chips. Andy blanched.

“Come along,” Miranda said again to Andy, who shivered at the dark tone of Miranda’s voice.

When they stood at the table, it wasn’t crowded, and Andy waited.

“Well, pick!” Miranda said impatiently.

Andy grimaced, unnerved by the rack of black chips that seemed to taunt her from the table top. “I don’t know how to play. I’ve never been here.”

Another roll of eyes, and Miranda said, “Then start with red or black.”

Andy looked down and saw the spaces on the green board that Miranda pointed to. Miranda motioned toward the chips. “Go ahead, you’re holding everyone up.”

“Oh,” Andy said, and picked up a chip.

“More than that,” Miranda barked.

“It’s a hundred dollars! Of your money!” Andy hissed.

“Do it,” Miranda said, and there was no mistaking the command.

Quivering with anxiety, Andy placed three chips on red. When the little ball started rounding the wheel, Andy shut her eyes, only opening them when the croupier called out, “Red.”

Andy gasped, and her three chips became six.

When she looked at Miranda, she was smiling serenely, as though she’d known exactly what would happen. “Again.”

Andy did.

She lost a few times, but their two thousand soon became four. Finally, Andy got the guts to place five precious chips on a number, with Miranda’s nod of approval.

Seventeen. It was her lucky number, which Andy had thought of that afternoon when she’d gotten a room on the 17th floor.

She was nearly vibrating with tension, until the croupier declared triumphantly, “Seventeen! Winner!”

There was a cry from every single person around the table except Andy and Miranda—strangers were smacking them both on the back and hooting as the croupier sent the chips over.

They’d just won seventeen thousand, five hundred dollars in a single instant. That made a total of almost twenty grand.

Andy was stunned.

“We’re done here,” Miranda said urgently, and which knocked Andy out of her stupor quickly enough. She stacked the chips in the rack the croupier handed her, and gave the man a black chip in return. She hoped Miranda didn’t mind, because it was all she had.

“Let’s go,” Miranda said, and led Andy to a nearby bar. It took only seconds for the bartender to spot Miranda. She didn’t even hesitate before ordering. “Four shots of Don Eduardo, with limes and salt.”

Andy tried not to let her eyes bug out. Who did Miranda think was about to do four shots?

The drinks arrived, and Miranda salted her own hand. She checked on Andy, who was standing stock still. “Well?”

“Oh, okay,” Andy said stupidly, and took the salt shaker from Miranda. She licked her hand, suddenly feeling light-headed, and dumped salt on it. Watching Miranda, she mirrored her motion, downing the tequila, licking and sucking. When Miranda’s head fell back with a sigh, and Andy couldn’t help but observe the swell of her breasts in the low-cut blouse. Andy salivated, and looked away. Only a moment passed before Miranda salted her hand yet again, so Andy followed—they did their second shot in unison.

Andy swayed where she stood. Heat traveled up from her stomach through her back and chest until she felt like her whole body was flushed and pink. When she gazed at Miranda, it seemed like things had changed between them, but that feeling fled when Miranda took Andy by the elbow again and pulled her away from the bar.

“Where to?” Andy said, and giggled.

“Craps.”

This time, Andy panicked. “That game is too complicated! There’s no way—“

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything.” Miranda was very firm, and moments later, they arrived at a table surrounded by half a dozen people. “We’ll have to wait until a new game starts and the shooter leaves. If they’re on a roll we’ll find another table.”

But they didn’t have to wait. Less than five minutes later, Miranda was at the head of the table. Andy was almost glued to her side, at Miranda’s instruction. “Don’t move, understand?” Miranda had said, and Andy nodded. She felt drunk, and hot, and horny. Miranda’s shirt had somehow gotten unbuttoned another button, and her shockingly sexy bra was visible when Andy looked over her shoulder. Now and then Andy had fantasies about having sex with Miranda, but she usually tried hard to not to think about it.

Tonight, her rules about not thinking about it had vanished. That tequila must have had something weird in it. Could Miranda have slipped her a roofie when she wasn’t looking? Probably not. And why would she do that, anyway? She could get any man she wanted, any man in this casino. She’d never given Andy anything other than a disdainful look in the office or out of it. But tonight, she smelled so good, and she looked incredible, and Andy had won all that money, and she just felt so lucky…

“Andrea!” Miranda said, getting her attention fast.

“Hi, sorry. W-what?” Andy stuttered.

Miranda held out her hand. In it were two red dice. “I said blow.”

Andy’s mouth fell open, and her knees went weak. She puckered up and blew, long and slow. Miranda’s mouth opened, but her attention was elsewhere—she threw the dice down the table.

“Yo-Eleven! Front line winner.” The dealer yelled out. Everyone cheered. Andy figured that the word “winner” was a good sign.

Miranda smiled, and rubbed against Andy’s side. Andy grabbed the table so she wouldn’t fall over.

Miranda did some sort of complicated maneuvering with bets, putting chips on a couple of numbers, while a few other players put chips down too. This time, when Miranda held out the dice, Andy blew gently, with as much luck and dedication as she could.

Miranda shot. The dealer called, “Ten.” More bets were placed by everyone around the table. When Miranda got the dice back, Andy had no idea what was happening, but she dutifully blew as instructed.

“No-field-five.”

“Little Joe.”

“Hard ten, a girl’s best friend!” There was an outcry of excitement, and chips were pushed toward Miranda and Andy.

This went on for a while, with Andy blowing on the dice, but instead of winning she was thinking more about how her breath was caressing Miranda’s fingers. When a server delivered two more tequila shots, she and Miranda knocked them back, but it didn’t break their stride. They kept playing, and apparently, winning. Andy still had no clue about the bets that Miranda or anyone else was placing.

Eventually, Andy looked down, and their pile of chips had grown larger. She felt faint, especially when Miranda grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. Their hips were flush, and Andy actually moaned a little, her eyes shutting involuntarily.

“Andrea,” Miranda whispered.

“Hmm?” Andy said. Miranda was only inches away, her lips delectable and damp.

“Once more,” Miranda replied, her hand just in front of Andy’s mouth.

Andy’s breath was barely an exhalation against the small plastic cubes.

“Yes,” Miranda sighed, and threw the dice.

“Seven, front line winner,” the dealer shouted, and the table erupted. Chips were pushed out to a dozen winners, all of whom seemed to have followed Miranda’s lead. Women hollered, men pumped their fists, and the dealer just shook his head.

“That’s all,” Miranda said firmly. The noise grew as people cried out “No!” but Miranda held firm as her chips were racked. Andy couldn’t tell how much they’d won, but it was a lot.

“Remember, Andrea,” Miranda said, tugging Andy against her side. “You must risk everything to win, but know your limit.”

Andy inhaled sharply. She's just hit her limit. Before she lost her nerve, Andy kissed her.

Though Miranda made a sound of surprise, she somehow ended up kissing back. While shouts went up all around them, Andy heard nothing but the beating of her own heart as it echoed Miranda’s name, over and over.

When the kiss broke, Miranda took two racks of chips from the table. Grasping Andy’s hand, she pulled her toward the little cage where they could cash in their chips. “New money,” Miranda commanded. “Virgin twenties, fresh from the bank.”

The cashier looked at Miranda as if there was no way in hell that was going to happen. But this was Miranda Priestly, and after a quick chat with a man in a very fancy suit, the cashier handed over twenty seven thousand, four hundred fifty dollars. Miranda held the money up in front of Andy’s nose—it smelled like sex and lust and greed all in one perfect little package.

“Where’s your room?” Miranda said, leaning close. Andy could see tiny flecks of mascara under her eyelashes.

“Seventeenth floor.”

Miranda smiled. “Seventeen. That’s my lucky number. Mine’s in the other tower—too far away.”

At that, Andy took Miranda’s hand and tried to lead her toward the elevator, until she realized she had no idea where she was going. Fruitlessly, she gazed around until Miranda took charge once more.

After some roaming around, they found it. Once upstairs, Andy rooted in her small purse for her key card, and to her great pleasure the door opened on the first try. Would she regret this in the morning? Three shots, twenty seven thousand dollars, and one kiss equaled one of the best nights of her life so far. Maybe she shouldn’t ask for more—maybe this should be enough—

But Miranda was right there in front of her, her pale eyes glowing. Her words echoed in Andy’s mind: _“You must risk everything to win.”_

Inside, she grabbed Miranda and pulled her through the short foyer into the bedroom on the left. She and Emily had flipped for the one with the king bed, and Andy had won. She slammed the door behind her and turned to Miranda, who held up the money, eyebrow arched.

Andy took hold of that hand and went in for a kiss. Miranda accepted it with a groan, and held Andy tightly. Their tongues met, and Miranda traced around Andy’s lips delicately.

“I want this,” Andy said softly.

Miranda went in to kiss her ear, licking up and around the shell before dipping inside for a moment. “And you’ll have it. “ Andy’s knees gave way, but Miranda caught her. “No no, none of that now.” She moved Andy backwards, kissing her all the while, until she stepped away. Miranda pulled the bedspread back, and the top sheet after it. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the money and threw it on the bed in handfuls as Andy watched.

“Ready?” Miranda said.

Eyes wide, Andy just nodded. Miranda pushed her back, and when Andy landed, twenty-dollar bills flew up around her. Miranda crawled on top, knees to either side of her hips. “Ever made love on twenty seven thousand dollars?”

Andy shook her head, licking her lips as she gazed up.

“Want to?”

“Yeah,” Andy said, and the low timbre of her voice surprised her.

“Good.” Then Miranda was on her, mouth fused to hers, hands already unbuttoning her blouse. Andy reached for Miranda’s skirt, unzipping and pulling as best she could.

She actually choked when she realized Miranda was wearing a garter belt to hold up her silk stockings. “Oh Jesus,” she said, sliding her finger under the edge of a stocking. “Do you wear these every day?”

Miranda just smirked. “And if I said yes?”

Andy arched under her touch. “Then we’re going to have to do this a lot more often.”

“Perhaps,” Miranda replied, unhooking Andy’s front closure bra. “Oh my. Hmm, I barely know where to start.”

“Here’s good,” Andy said, and pulled Miranda’s head down.

“Indeed,” Miranda said, and filled her mouth with Andy’s left breast.

It was glorious; Andy was just drunk enough to be totally uninhibited but not messy, and Miranda, well, she was as efficient, precise, and dedicated to excellence as she always was. Andy got to slide four of her fingers into Miranda while she writhed, and the smell of her mixed with money was astonishing. Later, Miranda teased and tormented Andy with her mouth and fingers, pushing her tongue inside and flicking it so fantastically that Andy had her first multiple orgasm.

She would have been embarrassed, but by the time she was done Miranda was climbing up to sit on her face, so she got over her shame pretty fast.

\---

Andy was awakened by a pounding on the door. She had no idea what time it was, what day it was, or what state she was in, but she knew two things: Miranda was tucked the curve of her body, and she felt amazing.

Even after Andy lifted her head to glance around, she was surprised: she didn’t have a hangover. Not even a headache.

“Andrea!” Emily called. “It’s almost ten o’clock. Miranda is going to have your head if you’re not ready and on the floor soon. Open the door!”

“Oh shit,” Andy croaked, and pulled the bedspread up and off the floor to cover them. There was money still all over the bed; Andy thought there was some stuck to her ass, which would be no fun to explain.

“Go away, Em. I’ll meet you there,” she said, raising her voice.

Miranda shifted against her, humming softly. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Shh, Emily’s right outside. It’s ten. You have plenty of time.”

“Get rid of her. I’m ready for breakfast,” Miranda said. “You order what you like, I’ll get started on mine right now.” With that, Miranda turned and kissed her sternum, her belly, and lower.

Andy’s head fell backwards, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Em?” Andy said loudly, praying she was gone.

Instead, the door opened. “What are you doing? Sleeping the day away?”

Between her legs, Miranda froze.

“Go away!” Andy yelped. “Get out! Right now!”

But Emily was staring at the clothes strewn about the room. She strutted closer. “Looks like you had quite the night,” Emily drawled. “Wonder what Miranda say if she knew you brought some trollop you just met back to your room. Whatever happens here doesn’t actually stay here, you know. That’s just a saying.”

“I—“ Andy said, trying not to squirm, especially when Miranda tongued her hip. “I didn’t. Emily, go now, please.”

“What is that?” Emily said, pointing to the edge of the bedspread as it brushed the floor. “Is that money?” And Emily came even closer and picked up a twenty dollar bill. A second fell right behind it, and Emily had the temerity to lift the spread a few inches off the carpet. More bills floated to the floor. “What the bloody hell have you been up to?”

And then she noticed the lump, clearly of another person, still in the bed.

“You dirty little slut,” Emily said, and to Andy’s unending misery, Miranda actually laughed. Andy tried not to moan. “Christ, Nigel’s going to love this.” Emily snatched up sixty dollars from the floor and said, “I’m keeping this. I’ll use it to fund my slot machine obsession. Just make sure you say your farewells in time for Miranda’s show.”

“I will,” Andy squeaked.

Thankfully, the door closed. Andy waited, listening for the external door to slam, which it did a few seconds later. Miranda inched her way up, kissing as she went, until she surfaced from under the covers. “Well that would have been something,” Miranda said.

“Sure. Something awful.” Andy wrapped her legs around Miranda, pushing her hips up and searching for friction.

“Isn’t it lucky then,” Miranda said, kissing Andy on the lips once, twice, three times, “that she left when she did? I think your streak continues.”

“Is that what last night was?” Andy said thoughtfully. “Just a lucky streak?”

“Partly,” Miranda said. “But I told you. You have to take risks to win. I believe you,” she continued, nosing along Andy’s cheek, “may be well worth the risk.”

“Because I won you some money?” Andy said, fishing for more.

Miranda laughed. “You know as well as I do, Andrea, that I don’t need the money. I’m certain we’ll find an appropriate way to divide our winnings. But in work and in life, my strength often lies in recognizing a good thing when it lands in my lap. Last night I just took proper advantage.”

“I did land in your lap, didn’t I,” Andy said with a grin.

“Oh yes,” Miranda replied. “And I’d like to continue your lucky streak now, if you’re up for it.”

Andy reached between Miranda’s legs. She was wet and slick, ripe for the plucking. “Oh yeah. I’m up for it.”


End file.
